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Chapter 100: Ability Lending – 1
The Speed Force was only one breakthrough. Six months of relentless testing had given George something else entirely—a scalable power system. A magic lending model. And it came with a business plan.
He looked down at the blueprint in his hands, the parchment etched with runes drawn from three worlds: Kamar-Taj, Hogwarts, and his own. This wasn't just spellcasting—it was infrastructure.
In the Marvel world, mages didn't always need talent. Most just borrowed. Power flowed down from dimensional demon gods, handed off through rituals and contracts. Sorcerers learned just enough to direct it. George had watched it happen at Kamar-Taj, seen it documented in the restricted texts, and now, he was on the other side of the equation.
He had become a demon god in structure, if not yet in scale.
Not that scale wasn't on his mind. Chaos Energy was still slow to grow. The Chaos Pearl helped, yes—but its rate of passive accumulation was abysmal. Drops in an ocean.
Dormammu ruled a dimension. George had a pocket smaller than some bank vaults.
He needed acceleration.
Two options: One, absorb pure external energy and convert it. The Tesseract hinted at this; George had made notes on future arc reactors, on the Sovereign's energy blocks. All of them are still out of reach.
So he turned to option two: lending.
Kamar-Taj's system worked for a reason. Give power. Take it back—multiplied. Treat magic like credit. Let others cast in your name, then collect interest.
George liked the simplicity. He was, after all, a man who owned part of the Federal Reserve.
For half a year, his clones tested frameworks. Eventually, he had it: a magic circle that established a live tether to Chaos Space. Borrowers didn't draw from their reserves—they pulled directly from him, through runes he had scripted in advance.
They couldn't improvise spells. But they didn't need to. The circle thought of them.
The outer ring was the anchor. Inside were four runes: one passive, three active.
The first was a threat-response rune. Always on. If it detected imminent lethal harm, it would auto-trigger the second rune: a kinetic shield.
The third rune granted speed, limited, capped at Mach 1. George had done the math. Anything above 486 meters per second risked external combustion. Most unmodified humans could briefly survive bursts around 400.
His Speed Suit solved the heat problem, but it wasn't something he'd give to just anyone. Better to keep things conservative for now.
The fourth rune? A teleport run, based loosely on the Apparition Charm, but rewritten with Chaos markers. Range: continental. Accuracy: tight. Risk: variable. Without a reinforced body, it could shred the nervous system.
He had a working circle. Now, he needed a test subject.
New York, March 1936. The Depression still hung over the city, but the riots and breadline shootings had thinned out. Still, crime stuck around. Desperation made sure of that.
George concealed himself with a fold of space and drifted over the street.
Two blocks down, he saw movement. A man—barely clothed, gaunt—slammed a girl into a wall. She dropped her bag. He snatched it, then reached lower. A hand curled at the waist of her skirt.
George didn't hesitate.
A pressure burst folded space around them. The man dropped, unconscious, us before his knees hit the pavement. George cast a basic Healing Charm on the girl—enough to stabilize her skull fracture—and slipped her food bag back beside her. Her eyes fluttered, then widened.
She screamed, scrambled upright, staggered once, and bolted, food clutched tight in both arms.
George was already gone.
In his lab, he dumped the man's body on the floor, cast Scourgify three times to kill the stench, then sat back and examined him.
Standard vitals. Malnourished, but stable enough for a low-load test.
He didn't bother waking him. Instead, George pulled a needle from the air, shaped from Transfigured steel and imbued with a simple guiding spell. He dipped it into fresh rune-ink and began the tattoo.
He etched slowly, patiently. Blood welled up around the needle tip, but the man didn't move. The Memory Charm held him still, memories now rewritten into blind obedience.
A minute later, the circle was complete—five inches across, glowing faintly under the skin of the man's upper forearm.
George finished with a light seal. No ceremony. No flourish.
He snapped his fingers. The man stirred.
"Master?" he asked, eyes fogged.
"Look at your arm," George ordered.
The man obeyed. As he stared, the circle lit up. The dried blood around it pulled inward and vanished, evaporating into the rune's center.
George felt the connection lock in—faint, like a thread brushing the edge of his mind. But present.
"Good," he said.
Then he drew his M1911 and fired.
The shot cracked like thunder. Just before the bullet could hit, the shield rune flared to life—a transparent ripple, like a bubble, caught the round and deflected it with a hiss.
The man blinked, unharmed.
"Don't resist," George said flatly.
"Yes, Master."
George reached out with his mind and pulled the man into his Chaos Space. He landed on his feet, staggered slightly, then straightened.
"Activate the third rune. Run."
The man turned and sprinted along the arc of the inner boundary—110 meters across, 690 meters total loop. Red lightning curled around his calves, matching pace. The rune worked.
"Stop."
He froze in place.
"Now the fourth. Focus on that point." George gestured casually to the far corner.
The man nodded, closed his eyes, and vanished. Reappeared ten meters away.
Then he screamed and collapsed.
George didn't rush. He walked over slowly. The man was spasming. Blood seeped from his ears. His skin was pale, white-lipped, eyes were fluttering.
His body couldn't take it.
George didn't cast a single spell to save himself, not even a diagnostic charm.
He placed two fingers on the man's neck, then vibrated his hand at a molecular level.
The body came apart quietly. No explosion, no mess. Just decomposition from the inside out. Matter unwound. What had once been skin became dust. Then not even that.
The connection snapped. The rune burned itself out, leaving a faint trace in George's awareness.
He noted the duration. Made mental edits to the circle. Then turned back to the blueprint.
Still plenty of tests ahead. But the system worked. And that meant the real lending could begin.
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